


A Journalist and a Magician Walk Into a Bar

by AriWrote



Category: NG (Visual Novel), Spirit Hunter (Series)
Genre: Could be Read as Romantic?, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Gen, cherry stems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21958150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriWrote/pseuds/AriWrote
Summary: Two Idiots get wasted and one Bartender suffers.
Relationships: Ban Naomasa & Mulan Rosé
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	A Journalist and a Magician Walk Into a Bar

**Author's Note:**

> This is Meh, probably needs more work, but I've been letting it sit in my WIP file for a while and it's Rosé's birthday! so fuck it, have this, maybe i'll write something better later

The two of them were stupid drunk--like it’s a wonder the bartender hadn’t decided the two idiots loudly picking at each other like grade-schoolers shouldn’t be cut off and thrown out on their asses to fend for themselves on the cold streets of Tokyo. Damn the fact that said idiots had once saved said bartender’s nephew/son from two whole spirits and inadvertently led to the safe return of her daughter. Eventually one had to draw the line in the sand and say ‘enough is enough’.

And yet. Here they were: most definitely still seated in the cozy, warm not-streets-of-Tokyo that were the barstools of The Black Rabbit.

Let it never be said that Natsumi Kijima did not have the patience of a saint.

Natsumi watched as Ban and Rosé huddled over their drinks; one whose price tag made even Natsumi’s hands shake as she poured it into a glass, and the other a cheap but effective beer that had started on one tab but quickly moved to another when the owner of said tab had been too plastered to argue. They were bickering over something that she wasn’t quite sure either of them could remember the root of, and she was almost certain they had even potentially changed stances on mid-argument.

It was, altogether, a pretty average night out when Ban and Rosé were in the same city. 

It was no small wonder that the two of them kept up this silly tradition. Both were the traveling type, each eager to search whatever part of the world their respective careers led them to as fully as they could. Rosé’s job all too often meant cruise ships and overseas performances; Ban’s often meant visiting the seediest underbellies of whatever place would take him. Despite a common interest and mutual acquaintances who were far too eager to shove them together in the direction of a spirit with the meager instructions to “fix it”, it was a rare occasion that they ever found themselves in the same city. 

But, like a rubber band pulled taut, they would inevitably find themselves together again. Somehow a magician would find one of her shows booked in the same city where a journalist just caught wind of story ripe for the picking. Calls would be made and a bar would be chosen. 

Tokyo, of course, meant the Black Rabbit.

Ban was almost always the first to arrive, still smelling of desperation and the smoke of a paycheck flushed away in bad bets. He’d sidle up to the counter, a smug smile hiding the pain of an empty wallet. Natsumi would start pouring out his usual almost before he asked, and he would not so subtly imply that she should start icing up Rosé’s preferred drink. 

Rosé would arrive some half an hour later, a smile on her lips and a comment on ladies arriving fashionably late on her tongue. With all the grace of a performer, she’d sit down next to Ban and order her drink (eyes alighting when it arrived promptly chilled). Once both had gotten settled and their cheeks were reddened by the alcohol in their system, they’d exchange “I missed you”s that sounded like insults and swap stories as though it were not obvious that they both wished the other had been there to experience it firsthand.

“So, there I was,” Ban slurred, “moments from colliding with a semi-”

“That’s!” Rosé rolled her eyes. ”I know you’re interested in spirits, but are you really so desperate to be one?” she asked, and then with enough of a pause to indicate it had only hit her about the same time it came out of her mouth, “Do you even know how to drive a motorcycle?”

“Doesn't matter. And I could have died, but given my current state as very alive, you’ll find I didn’t.” Ban rolled his eyes, hiding a smile behind the lip of his beer. “That’s honestly rich coming from you. Weren’t you just telling me that you nearly got yourself killed trying to ‘appraise’ some gun-crazy millionaire’s reportedly cursed diamond collection?” 

Ban dodged a hand swung a little too wildly, as if Rose meant to bat off his accusation.

“Oh, quiet you. You make me sound like some common burglar.” Rosé side-eyed Ban, a smile sharp enough to cut ice curling across her lips. “I wouldn’t think you would know anything about ‘rich’."

Ban's laught was bitter. “Oh, claaaaassy. Didn’t know we were swinging so low tonight.”

Instead of responding, she took another sip from her glass, only to find it empty. It let out a sharp clink as it hit the counter, Rosé’s usual delicacy having fled the bar two drinks back. 

“Miiiiiiss Kijiiiiima,” Rosé called, bracelets jingling as she waved the woman down. Natsumi pretended the label of a can of Asahi was the most fascinating thing in the world and hoped Rosé would give up. 

Rosé was not swayed. "Naaaaaatsumi,” she called again, “do you think you could make a lady a cherry vodka martini? Please, I'll even throw in a little extra for the trouble."

"Of course." Natsumi sighed, plastering on the same smile she usually did when someone began to test their limits. She reluctantly placed the can back on the shelf, and went searching for the ingredients. 

Her customers (few that they were) had simpler tastes and so her stock was not extensive, but she might have had something stored away. She dug around for a bit, and as her hand wrapped around an old bottle, Natsumi let herself feel a small bit of pride, despite the weariness encroaching on her. 

It was getting late. Natsumi for one was not looking forward to the time she'd have to corral the two outside, especially knowing that alcohol did not dull Rosé's lockpicking skills nor Ban's ability to wash his hands of culpability in following her. She'd learned that the hard way, and as such knew it was easier to play along until they both called it quits on their own. That didn’t mean Natsumi had to like it, though. 

(And it Rosé's martini found itself a little more aggressively handled than usual, well….)

"Switching it up?" Ban asked once the martini glass was placed before Rosé.

Rosé hummed, fingers curling around the stem. "Am I not allowed to try something new for a change?" Her drink sloshed a bit as she lifted the glass to gesture along with her words, telling enough of the alcohol buzzing in her system even if her words did not. "Now where were we? Something about thinking you could do what no man before you could and-”

If Rosé had been sober, perhaps she would have been mildly impressed at Ban’s little magic trick. 

(Though, if she had been sober, Ban would have never gotten such a chance to perform a trick on Rosé to begin with.)

Watch closely now.

One moment, there was a red cherry perched on the rim of Rosé's drink. She gesticulated wildly with the martini glass, accentuating her points with a heart palpitation from Natsumi as the liquid inside nearly sloshed onto the counter. Beneath Ban’s glasses, his eyes landed on the cherry and a smile spread across his lips.

The next moment, the cherry was gone. Rosé froze in place, her alcohol addled brain trying to catch up with the situation before her. Ban, meanwhile, munched away, a cherry stem perched between his lips like a cigarette. 

“You thief!” Rosé sputtered once she realized what was going on. Her glass hit the counter with crack, and Natsumi’s heart hit the roof of her mouth. Rosé’s hands flew at Ban, landing on his tie, as though her brain had finally begun the steps of a delayed attempt to retrieve the stolen cherry.

Ban cackled. “Don’t think it’s really worth trying to get his back.” He plucked the stem from his teeth and held it out to Rosé who recoiled. “Nice to see the Magnificent Mulan Rosé thrown off her game.”

“You!” Rosé continued, “You brute!”

She let go of his tie, and the both of them swayed in their seats from the force. Rosé’s free hand gripped at the bar, while Ban’s elbow skidded across the counter.

“You know,” Ban interjected, once they were somewhere approximating stable, changing the topic in a manner that did not challenge Rosé’s accusations. He placed the cherry stem back between his teeth, and spun so he could lean back against the bar. He crossed his arms together and hooked a heel on the bottom rung of the bar stool for stability. “I can tie this with my tongue.” As if to emphasize his point, the cherry stem twirled from one end of Ban’s grin to the other.

Rosé’s sputtering died down. She eyed Ban as though he might have lost his mind. “You do realize that you’re far too old for that joke to work? Or for me to be interested enough to play along?” 

As if to emphasize her point, she turned away from him and grabbed her drink, which seemed a little lonelier now bereft of its garnish.

“Oh, don’t go all ‘I’m only into men half my age’ on me now.” His voice raised into an ungodly falsetto that didn’t sound like Rosé at all. “This is just for fun. Come ooooon,” he unfolded his arms and held out one hand to Rosé. “Bet me?” 

Rosé tried to hide her expression behind her drink, failed miserably, and huffed. “I am  _ not _ encouraging you in your foolish gambling addiction-”

The pause was obvious enough for Ban to lean in, nearly toppling off his bar stool once more. Even still, his grin did not leave his face.

“-without something in it for.” She extended her hand towards Ban, their palms just nearly brushing. Even with the alcohol coursing through her veins and turning her cheeks scarlet, the briefest contact of their hands left Ban feeling as though he had plunged his hands into ice water. He refused to back down or flinch, though. He’d learned well enough that it was better to go into a bet without doubt.

“How about this?” he said, “If I fail, I’ll buy you a replacement drink to make up for my horrid theft…. But if I succeed, you pay for my next drink.” 

Rosé quirked an eyebrow, “As if I wasn’t already paying for all your drinks?” 

“...Noticed that one, did you?”

“Sure did.”

Ban had the gall to look hopeful, “I don’t suppose-”

Rosé quieted him with a withering look.

“....So does that work?” He tried instead.

Instead of replying, Rosé grabbed Ban’s outstretched hand. Not even the corpse chill of her skin could pull the grin from his face, which grew only wider when Rosé herself returned it.

Natsumi prepared herself for a long night.


End file.
